My eyes widen, but luckily nobody starts to disrobe. Instead, I am horrified as they all join voices in a ragged chorus of ‘For she’s a jolly good fellow’, following it up by swamping me in a blur of faces and smiles and greetings and hearty pats on the back.
I glance back at Jake, who to be fair looks as surprised as I am, and mouth: “Help!”
He shrugs, and I know he is clearly as much in the dark as me. We are dragged apart by the flow of the crowd, and I have no choice but to go with it. Slowly, after I have been passed from person to person and been congratulated by strangers and fended off many offers of drinks, the crush lessens. I am left standing, in shock, with Connie and George.
“Excuse my language,” I mutter, still trying to process it all, “but what the fuck was that?”
“That,” replies Connie, poking me in the chest with a finger, “was just a little celebration. To thank you for what you did yesterday, and for what I’ve since found out you’ve been doing for George, the secretive old goat.”
I glare at him through narrowed eyes, and he throws up his hands.
“Sorry, love,” he adds, “she got the thumb screws out, and I felt so much better for having talked to you. Just try and enjoy yourself, eh?”
I was enjoying myself, I think. I was enjoying myself very, very much – and was, in fact, fully prepared to be enjoying myself a whole lot more, possibly several times over, for the rest of the night. I look around, and see that Jake has disappeared behind the bar. He meets my eyes and laughs, giving me a ‘what can I do?’ face.
This, I think, as Connie and George usher me over to a table, is not how I’d expected this night to end. I am somewhat mollified when we reach our seats, and I see Larry curled up with Lottie. He jumps up when he notices me, and we are gloriously reunited.
Jake joins us, presenting me with a Starshine Special even though I hadn’t asked for one, whispering: “It’s a double, thought you might need it…” before he pulls up a stool next to me. I can feel his thigh hard against mine, and despite the fact that we are in a crowded room surrounded by lunatics, it still feels good.
Someone has been at the jukebox, and I hear ‘Dancing Queen’ by Abba kick in. A few people begin boogying along, and I soon start to recognise more faces – people who have wished me good morning; men and women I’ve passed on the green; some I’ve seen in the café. Even, totally bizarrely, Dr Wong, who is busting out some unexpectedly good moves on the impromptu dance floor.
“We had our meeting,” George explains, sipping a pint of what looks like Guinness, “and we decided we wanted to do something to show our appreciation.”
“You could have sent flowers!” I say quickly, still blinking with the surprise of it all. I’m not great with surprises, especially as the last one I got was finding my partner enjoying a lap-dance from his mistress.
“And where would be the fun in that?” he asks, patting my hand. “Flowers are nice, but nothing says thank you like an impromptu party! I’m afraid we’re all possibly a bit drunk, because we’ve been here since eight waiting for you to get back…”
“About that,” says Connie, her eyes flickering beneath the table, clearly spotting my hand resting on Jake’s knee, “where have you been? Matt just said you’d both left, all dolled up!”
“Masquerade ball at James Bond’s holiday home,” I say quickly, hoping to close down that particular line of inquiry.
“Oooh, nice. Hope you drank plenty of Vespers. Anyway…we didn’t just have a meeting and decide to come to the pub, although that would be par for the course. It wasn’t a normal meeting where you just happened to come up in conversation. No, the whole meeting was actually all about you.”
“What do you mean, all about me?” I ask suspiciously, gulping down my Starshine Special so fast I almost choke.
“She means, love,” George continues, “that we have a proposition for you.”
I feel Jake shake with laughter next to me, and nudge him. Sadly, it seems that my virtue is in fact perfectly safe at the moment, much as I’d been hoping it wouldn’t be.
“What kind of proposition?” I ask, not sure if I want to know.
“We want to offer you a job,” he continues. “In all seriousness, and party aside, we want to offer you a job. We can pay you a part-time salary, provide you with accommodation, and the Betties have promised all the free cake you can eat. I know it’s not London, not the glamorous big city lights, but there’s a place for you here, Ella, and people who need you. Will you at least consider it?”
I stare at him for a moment, completely dumbstruck. I expect Connie to chime in, but she is uncharacteristically quiet, looking as serious as I’ve ever seen her. Bloody hell. They actually mean it.
“Look, that’s really kind of you,” I say, gazing from one expectant face to another, “but it’s not that simple. There’s paperwork, and regulations, and insurance, and inspections, and I’d need a surgery, and…”
I run out of reasons at that point, and Connie makes the most of the pause to add: “I know it’s a lot to ask, and a lot to think about. And yes, I’m sure we’d have to jump through some hoops – but there is a surgery already. Our last doctor left about 15 years ago, so it might need some updating, but there’s still a room in the village hall that he used. I’m sure we could sort it. Look, we’re not asking you to answer us right now – I know this is a lot, and I know we hijacked you when you probably had other things on your mind, but do say you’ll think about it.”
The way her eyes pass across me and Jake tells me she knows exactly what other things I had on my mind, but at least she doesn’t start joking about it.
“Would it really be so terrible?” she says, smiling gently. “To stay here a little while longer? With as many cakes as you could eat?”
“Ha,” I reply, shaking my head. “You have no idea how much cake I can get through…”
I wonder if she has a point, though. I think about the way I have felt since I found this place. I think about Larry, and the beach, and the magical cave. I think about Miranda and George and how good it felt to help them. I think about the way I have rediscovered some sense of purpose, remembered how to smile, been lifted up by the beauty of these surroundings and the kindness of these people. I think about the man sitting next to me, and how this might complicate things. I think about all of it, silently, as I watch Dr Wong climb onto a table and start twerking to Beyoncé’s ‘Crazy In Love’.
“Would I get my own walkie talkie?” I finally ask, because for some reason that seems important.
